The 'Talent'
by Neteret
Summary: Horatio Caine has a new girlfriend who has a gift, presenting him with a mixed bag of good and bad.
1. Chapter 1

CSI: Miami

Horatio/OC

Disclaimer: I own nothing of CSI: Miami, I do not know anyone connected with the show or with CBS and they do not know me, what a shame.

A new for Horatio who has a surprise and more in store.

This started out as a Harem story and got away from me. Please, tell me if it works for you as a separate story. Feedback, please! (submit review)

The Talent

Elizabeth Vargas was about as attractive a woman as the red headed Horatio Caine had ever met. However, there was nothing about her, which could have indicated that she'd soon be the center of one of the most erotic experiences he'd ever had; to say nothing of it occurring in the middle of a public park, with about twelve hundred people around.

It had all certainly started innocently enough; she had been seated next to him on a return flight from Boulder, Colorado where he'd attended a conference about the latest electronic gizmos for CSI Laboratories. She first got his attention because, in contrast to her elegant Hispanic features, she spoke with a southern patter like that of Mr. Duquesne, Esquire, Calleigh's father. She also displayed that charismatic feminine allure that most women of the Deep South were steeped in from birth, that sort of true charm that never aged, only improved. When she told him that she worked as Head Librarian in the central Miami-Dade County Library, located just down the street from the Lab, he happily mentioned his own occupation and then, of course, the proximity of his workplace. In response to her interest, though he was usually reticent, especially with strangers, an hour later, he realized he was still talking about procedures because it kept her beautiful brown eyes on him.

Then, parting at the Miami terminal, just as he was going to inquire, she asked for his number, declaring that he could possibly be a 'resource' for her, 'if he would be so kind'. A few days later, before he could call her first, she invited him out to dinner so, she said, he could perhaps look at a list of books about forensics that she was thinking of ordering for the library, 'if he would be so kind'.

After that, she was his escort to a grand benefit-gala, sponsored by the MDPD, and then he took a rare day-off, which was why they were at that park. The day had certainly gone normally enough; they'd started with brunch, then driven down to Key Largo, and returned for an early dinner at the Agramonte Hotel. Then, discussing the final event on their schedule, a concert-on-green at Bicentennial Park, Horatio mentioned that he knew only one title in the program, the "1812 Overture," at which, Elizabeth suddenly became very uncomfortable.

"Well, it's not a problem, exactly, it's more like an embarrassment. You see, I'm a synesthete." She looked hopefully at him but not seeing any comprehension, she explained, "Remember, back in the sixties, the descriptions of the effects of LSD? Hearing colors? Tasting music? Seeing flavors? Now, imagine being like that all of your life, being born with it. Well, that effect is called Synesthesia and one who has it, something like seven percent of the population, is a synesthete.

"I'm one who feels sound. I mean, my brain translates sounds into physical sensations. Many sounds, especially loud ones, generally produce unpleasant sensations, but there are a few that are nice, and a few are," she hesitated with a small, almost embarrassed smile, "extremely pleasurable. Concert music, for me, is usually quite pleasurable." She paused. "And I'm not telling you what you need to know yet, am I?"

"Um, well," Horatio said, smiling apologetically, "not yet. Can you tell me more?"

"Okay, what I'm getting to is what the "1812 Overture," specifically, does to me."

Horatio thought she looked like she was either about to reveal a nasty skeleton hidden in a family closet or the punch line to a very good joke.

"Let me just say that describing what it does to me as being better than very good sex, is as good an explanation as I can give." Suddenly even the background sounds of the restaurant seemed hushed, as if waiting for what would come next.

"Excuse me?" Until now, Elizabeth had always displayed a certain amount of old fashioned southern reserve that Horatio had found sweetly appealing, so her declaration startled him. Said in such a matter-of-fact tone, he thought, at first, that she must have been telling him a joke in the manner of a shaggy-dog story.

"I could just ask you to take me home and be done with it, but I really like being with you and," she dropped her gaze to her unfinished plate, smiling shyly, "I'd rather not end it just now." Her cheeks colored as she added, "I'm mortified to be addressing a topic like this when I hardly know you, but here I am, doing it, telling you why you'll probably be laughing at me in a couple of hours. The only thing more that I'm going to say is, please, don't make fun of me tonight. I rather like the whole experience, in fact, find it is extremely enjoyable, but it can be a little," she searched for the word, "graceless in public."

In spite of this vague warning, he still was not prepared for what happened at the concert. A very informal affair, they had spent most of it lounging on a blanket enjoying the music, eating grapes, and drinking champagne out of fluted, plastic cups, while she displayed a well-versed range of knowledge about classical music composers as well as musical form. She made no further mention of her 'condition' and he had nearly forgotten about it. When the conductor announced the final work to be played, to get a good view of the coming display, they rose to their feet with the rest of the audience, she in front of him and he with his arms around her.

At first, she simply swayed in time to the first two movements, as anyone well acquainted with a favorite bit of music, might. He even attributed the growing tension in her body, the increase in her respiration, to the ambient excitement from the audience, who were all anticipating the explosive ending. It wasn't until the last celebratory movement of the composition, while the violins were playing the gaily sliding cascade of notes accompanied by the chimes, representing the grand celebration of Russia's victory over France, that her growing excitement became obvious. He could feel her take deeper and deeper breaths as her hands tightened on his enfolding arms, and occasionally, he heard her make a sort of tittering sound. The firing of the artillery, in time with the music, and the fireworks seemed, finally, to send her over the edge. Each blast, from the large guns produced shivering tremors through her entire body and each bright detonation from the sparkling aerial display reinforced them, as she inhaled intensely and exhaled explosively. Horatio had no doubt as to what was going on with her, having beem intimate with many women in his life. By the pounding orchestral crescendo, she was giggling and gasping, spasmodically trembling and heaving, unquestionably, joyfully riding the great waves of music as she would a lover between her legs. To his great wonder, when she stiffened with the last notes and then shuddered, he knew she had reached the pinnacle of complete satisfaction, and as the sounds of the thundering finale rolled away, the last spark in the sky faded, she collapsed against him, breathless, wilted, and still.

Several minutes after, as the rest of the crowd was picking up their blankets, and strolling to their cars, the two finally stirred. He'd been afraid to let go, unsure if he was calmed down enough to release the woman who had just come to sexual climax while in his arms, but not because of him.

She moved first, breaking free of his hold, stumbling as she did so. Rebuffing his reach to steady her, she put her hand up, declaring, "I'm okay, thanks." Apparently unable to meet his concerned look, she seemed intent, for some time, on finding something on the ground. Finally, she raised her eyes to say, "I'm sorry for acting like a darned fool."

Shaking his head, he replied, "I'm not. It was, um, an interesting experience for me." He wasn't sure where to lay his own hungry stare, since interesting wasn't really the appropriate word. Assured she was steady enough to stand without his aid, he picked up the empty bottle and tossed it in a nearby trashcan, folded the blanket over his arm, picked up the picnic box, and then followed her, in silence, to the parking lot.

At the door to her loft apartment, Elizabeth said, finally, "I really should apologize for my behavior out there."

"Why?" Horatio had been far too busy analyzing what had happened, to take much notice the quiet between them.

"Because I embarrassed you. Don't deny it. A cardinal juggling wriggling eels at high mass in a cathedral would have been less of a spectacle than I was out there. I did warn you, though."

"Elizabeth, I wasn't embarrassed. I was—" Horatio paused, looking back to identify what it was he had felt. "I was surprised, I think, to be holding a woman who was having a better time than I was."

She quickly stifled a burst of laughter. "What a charming way to put it! Well, at least you're honest." She moved closer to him and put her arms about his waist. "I have to admit, though, I had a slightly ulterior motive."

"Oh?" he responded, his arms finding their way around her shoulders.

"After you told me what was being played at the concert, that is. I thought about it on the drive from the restaurant. Putting your arms around me, when we stood up, was no accident. I planned that little move."

"Oh?"

"Yes, as I said at dinner, I do like you so— you see, I am well aware, sir, of the effect a squirming woman has on a man's libido."

"Yes?" He wasn't exactly sure where this was leading, but he was certain she was not going to send him off with just a handshake that evening.

"Yes. Comes from being a librarian; I read a lot. So, I decided to let the music do what it does to me and then just let nature take its natural course. I thought I'd see where it leads us." She moved closer to him.

A flash of recent memory brought a smile to his lips. "Nothing like nature." His arms wound around her back.

A few minutes later, they shared their first goodnight kiss and he left with an unspoken understanding between them that this was the beginning of the next step in the relationship. Over the next few weeks, their rapport did deepen and, eventually, he once again felt her climax in his arms, but in more intimate and much more satisfying circumstances.

He also found many other interesting layers to her personality, so much so, he seldom stayed late at the lab or spent evenings at home, alone. She was fun, she was witty, and she was intelligent and he always enjoyed being with her. Often, at noon, when he wasn't up to his generous eyebrows in evidence analysis, or out in the field, she would stop by, either to bring a lunch to share, or to take him out for a bite, becoming a familiar figure to the rest of his team.

Not forgetting the incident at the park, he did nearly forget the reason for it. He didn't even notice that, on the few evenings he had time to take her out to his favorite nightspots, she would almost always entice him to take her home relatively early, nor did he suspect there might be a reason other than her desire to be alone with him. Least of all did he suspect that the reason for the incident at the park would be instrumental in breaking a case or that it would ever cause any problems between them.

End of Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 2

CSI: Miami

Horatio/OC

Disclaimer: I own nothing of CSI: Miami, I do not know anyone connected with the show or with CBS and they do not know me, all of which is a shame.

Elizabeth helps Horatio, Delko, Cooper and Tripp solve a crime, using her peculiar 'talent'.

You got this far, good! Feedback, please! (submit review)

The 'Talent' – Ch 2

Then, one afternoon, Horatio discovered Elizabeth near to tears, leaning against a wall close to his office. Hands to her ears, nearly doubled over, she squealed to him, "Oh Horatio! Is that somebody's idea of fun? Listening to noise like that?" Brokenly, in her rapid drawl, she explained that, walking past the Audio/Visual lab, some loud sound had all but knocked her senseless.

Not being able to gain any more information, leaving her resting on a couch in his office, a very puzzled Horatio headed back down the stairs to the A/V room. He knew what was supposed to be going on in there, but, from Elizabeth's reaction, something must have gone terribly awry.

Meanwhile, in the A/V lab, for the last half hour, Delko and Cooper had been trying to analyze some of the sounds behind a voice on a phone message. A kidnapper had given a young woman's husband a mere twelve hours to pay up or risk receiving one of her fingers in the mail. Behind the specific pay-off instructions, they could hear a great deal of traffic and other sounds, which they were trying to identify. After Cooper had digitally isolated and separated the noises, both heard the heavy thud of what they had decided was a pile driver. They hoped to be able to hear something distinctive enough in either that sound or in the surrounding traffic noises to be able to identify the location but, so far, had failed. Delko had found that five different pile drivers were in operation in Dade County, that day, widely spread apart, and neither had any clue to which one they were hearing.

Rounding the corner, in a fast-paced walk, Horatio could see the glass walls around the room vibrating in syncopation to the noise inside. Raising his voice as he entered, he asked, "Gentlemen, what's the progress?"

"Nada, H," said Delko, shaking his head with a discouraged look. Cooper turned in his chair and shrugged his shoulders in agreement. Delko continued, "We've been trying to find something, maybe behind the pile driver sound that tells us where it is, but there doesn't seem to be anything but traffic noise you'd hear anywhere. I'm thinking we're going to have to pick a couple places, go out there, and run a sound comparison. We don't have time to go to all five locations. I don't think we have a chance, unless we get it right the first or second time."

"Have you been playing this any differently or louder than what I'm hearing now, by any chance?" Hands on his hips, he turned his head to one side, looking away from the young men, his jaw thrust forward ever so slightly.

The two looked at each other questioningly, then back at their boss, and shook their heads. They knew from the body language that he was annoyed with them.

"I haven't touched the volume control or the analog set for at least twenty minutes, since we started this sequence," said Cooper. "I run it, we talk, I run it again, same thing, over and over."

"Why, what's wrong?" asked Eric.

"I just found Elizabeth, practically in shock, in the hallway. She wondered why you'd be playing the sound of the pile driver from over in front of the Miami Arena, at full blast?"

Cooper looked back to Eric, worry playing at his youthful face. "We're playing it at the decibels one would hear on the street, no louder."

Delko immediately asked, "She knows what the sound is and where it is? How?" He signaled at Cooper to cut the playback.

Realizing that the import of the information probably outweighed the injury, for the moment, Horatio turned around saying, "Don't turn that back on. I'm bringing her in here."

Two minutes later, eyes wide, holding onto Horatio's hand, cuddled into the crook of his arm, Elizabeth unwillingly entered the lab.

After receiving permission, the CSI Lieutenant asked Cooper to play the sound again, at minimal volume.

Raising her head in relief, Elizabeth explained, "Yes, I can stand that. Okay, can you hear that high-pitched, fast clunking sound, as the driver is being pulled up? I don't know, but I'm guessing there's something, maybe broken, inside the casing. Anyway, to me, that sound feels like a heavy chain inside my esophagus is being jerked out every time the thing goes up. Then, that thud, when the driver hits the pile? That's like a fist, hitting right at the front of my throat where it meets my chest, hard enough to close off my breathing! I know what the sound is because I get coffee at a place near there, almost every morning. Well, I used to; I quit going there while they're using that thing!"

Horatio directed, "Okay, we have a location. It could be nothing, but it's all we've got, right now. Take Wolfe, please, and go over there, see what you can find. You need to search a radius of at least four blocks, Eric!"

Delko's path was blocked by Frank Tripp at the doorway. In spite of his six-foot-four height, his jaw seemed to hang nearly to the floor as he waved a small packet in his hand. "Just got another recording, Horatio, same guy."

Before anyone else could move, Cooper jumped up, grabbed the tape, and slapped it into a machine.

A voice droned out, "You have four hours before I snip, snip. Which one should I pick? The ring finger? The pinky? Maybe the thumb?"

Without thinking, Elizabeth said, "That's a different location. Three blocks away, over by the American Airlines Arena, on the Port Boulevard side."

Everyone stared at her, but Delko reacted first with a lopsided grin and a shake of his head. "Uh, how can you tell the location so precisely? It just sounds like traffic, to me."

Raising her head proudly, which only southerners can seem to do effectively, she confidently answered. "Part of my 'condition' is caused because my hearing is as sensitive as a bat's." Her next comments were directed at Horatio. "The sound of the traffic coming down from the bridge, echoing off of the arena building is fairly distinctive in itself, but did you hear that sound of bells and the high pitched whistle?"

Horatio had not heard those sounds and, looking at the other three men, saw that only Cooper appeared as if he thought he'd heard something.

"Two vendors, the ones with those little wheeled carts, have places on that corner. The ice cream man has a line of bells that he runs his finger back and forth across, and the hot dog man blows a whistle. I go to the book fairs at the arena and I love the ice cream from that one man."

Smiling his 'evidence found' smile, Horatio turned. "Eric, Frank, you heard her. I'm betting our victim is in the area between the two arenas. Take a team, please, and get started on a search."

Before the mystified Detective Tripp could question taking a civilian's word, he was hustled out by Delko.

&&&

When Horatio told Elizabeth, late that night, that they'd found the young woman, bruised but alive and unhurt, and taken the captor into custody, all because of her talent, that she was lucky to have it, her terse reply, "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" puzzled him but didn't stop his grateful thanks.

&&&

Walking through the lab, several days later, bringing lunch, Elizabeth had heard Calleigh shout, "Two shots!" but not knowing what that meant, had not thought to cover her ears, as she'd passed the firing range.

Moments later, Horatio looked up from his desk to see her staggering in, teary-eyed and in distress. Hearing her explanation, he unthinkingly blurted out, "But at the concert, you seemed excited by the cannon fire." Clearly, she was in pain, so there was no question in his mind that she had been injured, but understanding how it had happened, particularly in his world, eluded him.

"I know. I wish I could explain it, Horatio. For some reason, I can often tolerate loud noise when it's in concert with music. Remember, too, those guns were at a distance, as were the fireworks, and more-or-less drowned out by the playing. This, though…" She kept looking around as if afraid of another attack. "It was so raw, so unadulterated, and so close! It's funny, in a way, because that sound is like an explosion in my chest and, as wounded as I feel, there's no blood!" She weakly attempted to laugh and failed. A few moments later, she canceled their lunch date and returned to her library.

Two weeks later, out for a CSI picnic for the graveyard and day shifts, she apologetically begged him to take her home just as the baseball game between the Caines and the Nighthawks was getting fun.

Horatio had wanted to suggest she could just move, sit further away from the noise, but she was so obviously upset, he didn't. Sorely disappointed to miss the game, he took her home.

On the way, she tried to explain how some of the more strident voices of the players and observers, throwing the good-natured, but rather loud, jibes at each other felt like small saw-toothed knife blades ripping at the right side of her neck just above her shoulder. "It wasn't all of them, but some of those people had voices that I swear could be used to peel wallpaper!" She went on to say that even the crack of the bat hitting the ball was as if a dagger were being plunged into her chest.

That night, spooned together after some very satisfying lovemaking, she asked him about how he became a criminalist. Since it seemed to come out of the blue, he asked why she wanted to know.

"Partly because I'm curious, but mostly just to hear you talk. Your voice, Horatio, feels like a warm, gentle hand is massaging my insides about here," she pulled his hand to the front of her waist, "only way deep. It's a wonderful feeling. Also, when you're this close to me, it sends a thrumming feeling right down to between my legs that's almost as nice as the Eighteen-twelve."

"You mean to tell me that all I have to do to get you hot and bothered is talk to you?"

Pausing, as if just realizing the truth to his words, she finally answered, "Pretty much, yes."

He nuzzled into her hair. "Just tell you how I became a crime scene investigator and this would, uh, tickle your fancy?"

She giggled and moaned. "Even as you speak, my dear. Actually, you could read me names out of the phone book, say anything at all, but I thought it might be easier for you to tell me something about yourself. "

"I could call you at work, one day," he persisted, "and read you a list of vital statistics on crime in Miami, and you'd get off, and no one on my side would be the wiser?"

Through her laughter, she managed to say, "Interesting as those statistics might be, I assure you, I'd hang up before I'd allow you to embarrass me in front of my colleagues."

Of all the pleasures he knew how to give a woman, this was a first for Horatio. He began murmuring quietly, recounting his early years on the Bomb Squad and what led to his pursuit of a career as a CSI. After a while, she turned around in his arms and was doing with her hands, her body, and her lips what she declared he'd just done for her with his voice.

His first inkling that something in the relationship was not entirely right was the evening she said, "Let's be old fogies and start using my little Caddy to go out on dates." She drove a well kept 1996 Cadillac that was so well insulated you couldn't even hear the tires on the road at highway speeds. "Fun as it is to ride in your little TR4, my dear; I don't think I can take the noise, any more!"

Shortly after that, their schedules conflicted so much that they hardly saw each other for a couple of weeks. She didn't come to the Lab anymore, after the gun incident, and he seldom got off work until late, though they did talk on the phone. He didn't even take notice that he was doing all of the calling either. One afternoon, Elizabeth mentioned she had taken the late Thursday shift at the library, and wasn't leaving until nine o'clock that night, which happened to fit right in with Horatio's late running schedule for that day. He'd told her he'd meet her at the 'lair', as her coworkers called it, so she wouldn't have to go out to her car alone. Her hesitant and subdued thanks should have given him a clue that something was up, but didn't.

In the heart of the old building that night, he stood leaning against the doorframe of her office, otherwise known as her lair, waiting while she prepared to leave. Now, as on previous visits, he had the idea that this space was her 'Dome of Stillness', her island of silence within a silent world. Considering that this was a library, where quiet was the rule, the concept almost humorous. He again noted the prominence of a small sign on her desk, which read, "No Noise is Good Noise".

While she closed down her computer, he became aware that she seemed a little 'too busy' doing such a simple process, was too involved even to look at him. Wondering what was up, just to get her attention, he remarked, "You know, it's so quiet in here, tonight, I can hear my ears ring."

"Quite a difference from the lab."

Horatio knew there was a hidden message in the reply but needed more clues to decode it. Without realizing his habit, he dropped his chin, as he did when he felt uncomfortable. "Difference between a library and a crime investigation laboratory, I guess."

"Worlds apart. Come on, out the back way. My car is in the lot." She flicked off the lights, shouldering her purse and hurriedly brushed past him.

Several times, on the brief walk, Horatio tried light conversation, asked how her day went and remarked on the progress of the kidnapping case that she had helped break, but received only single word replies, so he decided to wait for whatever it was that was on her mind to come out in its own time.

Opening the car, she threw her purse to the passenger seat, closed the door without getting in, and turned to face him. Leaning against the door, she started playing with her keys, looking wordlessly into his face.

Usually, this was an invitation for a kiss, but tonight, he was sure it was her way of considering her next words. Taking one of her hands, stilling the nervous chinking sound, Horatio spread his legs slightly, and patiently allowed the seconds to tick by.

"I've been thinking, Horatio." After another silent moment, she continued. "About my condition, or ability, or whatever you want to call it, and how it's affecting our relationship. I'm never going to get over it, you know." She angrily rebutted the unspoken argument, "Its not mental, not something I can talk about to a counselor, get 'cured of'." Desperation increased the volume of her voice, "I can't adjust my thinking, and can't just accept it and forget about it; I can't get used to the wounding, physical pain that so many sounds cause me."

"I don't think I've said anything but how much I admire your talent."

A hissing, derisive sound escaped from her lips. "You call it a talent when it's been of use to you but, really, how much admiration did you feel when you had to leave that picnic? How great is it to know I'm afraid to visit you at your work, now, afraid of what will assault me, next? I'm betting that, even outside of the lab, if I'm around you long enough, I'll hear plenty more gunfire, explosions, and who knows what else? True?"

"Not necessarily. Besides, you risk that anytime." He knew he was backpedaling.

She waved her arms in her dilemma. "It's more likely with you! Just the thought of some deafening, mind-shattering noise, coming at me at any moment, drives me crazy because I know it will hurt so much! Plus the fact that you can't take me to nightclubs because I can't take of the volume of the music played there, we can't go out to movies for the same reason, and can't even drive together in your car. I don't imagine for a minute that you enjoy these restrictions! I have to limit my life, but I'm content to do so. You can't limit your life and do your job! Yes, I accept that the world is full of noise, and that much of that noise is part of what you do, but I can't let it, no, I'll be damned if I'm going to invite it to be part of my life!" Coming to her point, helplessly shaking her head, "I'm sorry, Horatio, my dear, I adore you, but it's all getting to be more than I can take. For your sake as well as for mine, I can't see you any more."

Looking into her determined face, he swallowed dryly. She was not asking for release nor was she looking to him to for answers to the problem; she was making a flat statement that required no reply, brooked no rebuttal. Her announcement, he abruptly realized, was not unexpected, but it saddened him, greatly.

He hadn't recognized the signals for what they were until now, and suddenly, understanding depths of her frustration, he realized why he'd remained so ignorant; more than a satisfying physical relationship, even more than the unexpected benefit to his lab, he thought he had truly found someone whose interests and intelligence seemed to equivalent his own. She was an equal he didn't have to look out for, a peer with whom he could share without detailed explanation. He hadn't wanted to think that it wasn't the same for her. He thought he would have willingly changed a great deal of his life for her, but the problem was, he knew, he still had no concept of her sensitivity, could not grasp what difficulties she lived with. He had no idea what to change or how. Sure that she was aware that he was certainly willing to learn how to make adjustments, she, apparently, couldn't afford to endure the time those adjustments might take, was unwilling to risk the damage to herself, meanwhile. He just didn't really understand.

They stood by her car for some time, surrounded by the sounds of the night; the noise from the street, car stereos turned up so loud that Horatio could feel the vibration through his shoes, sirens moaning their high-pitched screams, wound around his ears, voices of people arguing from a block down the way, echoed sharply against buildings, a child's wailing cry accented it all. He reflected on what these common sounds might be doing to her, what pain she was tolerating to stand there with him.

As if in answer, Elizabeth abruptly pushed herself erect, turned and got into her car. Horatio waited until he heard the soft thunk of the door being locked, and reluctantly stepped back. While she started the engine, he looked right and then left as his hands, brushing his jacket back, settled on his hips.

In the second it took to shift his weight, from his heels to the balls of his feet, he understood her decision. Maybe he didn't understand exactly what she was going through, but he did get that she had limits of tolerance. He, himself, had limits, as Rebecca Nevins had found out a couple of years ago when, as State's Attorney, she'd worked to release a cop-killer back onto the streets. Rebecca, in working to convict another cop killer, had worked out a deal with the young man, but Horatio knew, there were other ways. He'd even invited her to do it differently and she'd refused. He couldn't be social with a woman, no matter how attractive, who worked to make his job, his life, harder. He and Elizabeth looked at each other one more time, before he watched her drive off.

After that night, for a while, he occasionally looked for sounds he knew she could identify, looked for excuses to see her again, subjects he knew were of interest to her, even considered seeking an outdoor concert featuring the "1812 Overture," or her next favorite, "The Ride of the Valkyries." He reminisced on what it was like to be with her, in a crowd, holding her, surrounded by music, feeling her struggle in an overload of sexual excitement, and wanted to feel the vicarious thrill, again, wanted to be able to maintain a connection with this most unusual woman, and knew it was just not possible.


End file.
